


Be My Forever

by saintgenevieve



Series: In the Name of Love [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, I don't know what kind, Magic, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Psychological Trauma, Sex, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture, Tragic Romance, True Love, but there will be sex, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintgenevieve/pseuds/saintgenevieve
Summary: Blue eyes met mine and something electric and familiar rushed through me. “Are you an angel?” he asked softly, a large warm hand coming up to rest on my shoulder. “Have you come to take me away from this place?”Oh.“I am neither angel nor Valkyrie, brave one. But I think I might be yours,” I answered.Or Sigyn, Steve, and Bucky are all soulmates. Because I feel like it. An AU of an AU that I'm not done writing.





	1. Walking the Wire

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an AU of an AU, because I'm the literal worst. I'm not even done with the first AU, but whatever. I will go down with this goddamn ship! *insert maniacal cackling*

The Bifrost slammed me into the ground so hard my knees buckled and my teeth knocked together. I snarled a curse at the sky—in Heimdall’s general direction—and took in my surroundings. Trees and mist and the barest hint of starlight. I stood very still, letting myself adjust to the climate and my eyes adjust to the murkiness of Midgard after the brilliance of Asgard.

I wrapped myself in mist, letting the fog cover me like a cloak and shield me from unfriendly eyes. Gerda had taught me the spell when I was a child—it was originally a Jotun spell, but I had repurposed it to suit my needs. I crept through the trees, my feet moving soundlessly over dirt and pine needles.

Odin had told me that the Tesseract had been rediscovered by a group of humans with less-than-ideal notions of how to use it—that is they wanted to take over the world and destroy anyone who resisted. I’d been warned that the leader of this endeavor fancied himself to be a god. I would make sure he knew he was as far from godhood as anyone could possibly be.

The building came suddenly out of the darkness, looming large and sinister as a ravenous beast. It practically oozed pain; I was going to burn it to the ground if it was the last thing I did. I would make sure that no trace of it remained, once I had retrieved the Tesseract.

I made my way through the twisting halls of the structure, thinking suddenly of Loki. _He’d be amused by this, the destruction these humans are trying to wreak, their goal to take over Midgard and kill everyone in their way. Humans were born to die, he’d say with a little smirk, it’s what all of them inevitably do. He’d laugh at Hydra and the Nazis, after all no one has ever succeeded in taking over the whole world. Why should they be any different?_

 _They have the Tesseract_ , I told my husband’s voice in my head. _They have an Infinity Stone. They are a danger, even to us. Their science is still rudimentary at best, but in a century or two or three they might be able to challenge us. If they completely take over their own world, do you think they’ll be satisfied? Will their bloodlust and desire for power be sated by this small, blue planet—one of billions in our universe?_

I could feel the Tesseract, the pulse of its power as clear as my own heartbeat. I wasn’t afraid of these humans, not yet, but I was afraid of what they would do. What they had the power to do. Odin was a fool to leave the Tesseract here, within their reach. Perhaps he thought when it was found they would use it to better themselves. Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter now. It was dangerous in their unworthy hands and I had to relieve them of it.

  I reached the room where it was held. There were two humans inside, I could hear them talking. Despite the vileness of their goals, I didn’t particularly want to kill them. I knew they probably deserved it, judging from what I’d been told about Hydra, but I also pitied them. They were cruel, but small and unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

The door opened easily under my hands and I let the spell obscuring me melt away like mist in the sun. The men gaped, one small of stature and rather round, and the other taller with cold cruelty in his eyes. There was something lurking beneath his skin, something dark and dangerous and evil.

“Hello,” I said pleasantly. “I’d like the Tesseract, please, if it’s not too much trouble.”

The small one sputtered disbelievingly. “How did you get in here?”

I shrugged. “How does anyone get anywhere? I walked almost a mile through those woods and followed the power of the Tesseract to this room. Now, I’d very much like to have it and leave. I’d prefer not to stay in this place for too long. It smells of death.”

“What are you?” the cold one asked.

I smiled, beautiful and dangerous as a snake about to strike. “I am what you humans once called a goddess.”

“The Tesseract is mine,” he snarled.

“No, it’s really not. Give it to me now, and I might just spare your worthless life. Do not test me; I am older and stronger than you could ever hope to be,” I said.

“Is that a threat?” he sneered, his fat friend silent and afraid.

“Yes.”

The cold man drew a weapon, something that looked like the guns I had seen before but different. He leered at me. “You should not have threatened me.”

The bolt of blue energy hit me right in the chest and agony seared through me. I cried out and darkness claimed me.

 

The first thing I registered was pain, an aching that started in my chest and radiated out from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. Everything hurt, _breathing_ hurt, but I was alive. All things considered, I wasn’t entirely sure that was a good thing.

“Are you awake, little goddess?” a cold voice asked.

“I am going to rip you apart, piece by piece, sinew by sinew, and so slowly that by the end you will beg me to kill you,” I said softly, not opening my eyes.

He laughed and I fell back into oblivion.

 

The next time I woke, I was lying on a cot in a cell. There were three stone walls and then a line of bars. Whoever had put me in this cage was going to regret it for the rest of their lives. The pain was still present, but not as bad as it had been before. Mostly, I just felt tired and frail.

I reached for the wellspring of power inside me, ready to make these horrible humans pay and found…nothing. The place inside me where I imagined the magic coming from—somewhere between my heart and my stomach, protected by the curve of my ribs—was hollow. Empty. I had no power, no strength. I was, for all intents and purposes, human.

I swore, loudly and creatively, using every bad word I’d ever heard at least twice. _I’m powerless, trapped by hostile men, and stranded on this planet unless Heimdall helps me. What if he can’t see me? What if the Tesseract is making it impossible for him to help? Or what if Odin has ordered that I have to do this on my own? Loki’s traveling with Thor, and the last time we saw each other I threw a knife at him, so there’s no one in Asgard to miss me._

_So how do I get out?_

Carefully, I sat up, trying desperately to ignore the uncomfortable emptiness inside me. They’d taken my clothes, my weapons, and put me in a long, threadbare grey dress that left most of my shoulders and my arms exposed. There were two blankets on the cot for me to keep myself warm.

I swung my bare feet down to the floor and flinched at the coldness of the stone. I stood slowly, my knees shaking with effort; I’d never been this weak before. It was exasperating, to say the least. I made my way across the cell and wrapped my hands around the bars, partly to gauge their strength and partly to hold myself up.

Resisting the urge to call out to anyone who might be listening, I leaned my forehead against the bars and tried to think. Without my powers, without weapons, I was helpless. Absolutely, completely helpless.

There was a noise from somewhere down the hallway and I scrambled back from the bars, terrified out of my mind for the first time in my life. The round human came into view first, with two men dressed in black behind him. And between them, they dragged a young man with dark hair. His head was bowed and it was obvious he was only half-conscious.

“Good afternoon,” the round man said pleasantly. “We were not introduced properly before. I am Doctor Zola. What is your name?”

I bared my teeth at him in a feral snarl, but didn’t answer.

He shrugged. “I’ve brought you a cellmate—as everything else is rather full. I do hope he doesn’t die on you; he’s quite resilient, but there’s only so much the human body can take.”

The cell door was opened and the young man was thrust through; the door clanged shut behind him. He stood for a moment, legs shaking, and I rushed forward just as his knees buckled. We both went to the ground, pain secondary to the fear that the man would die. His eyes were half-closed, sweat beading on his forehead. I cupped his face between my hands, feeling the feverish heat of his skin.

Blue eyes met mine and something electric and familiar rushed through me. “Are you an angel?” he asked softly, a large warm hand coming up to rest on my shoulder. “Have you come to take me away from this place?”

_Oh._

“I am neither angel nor Valkyrie, brave one. But I think I might be yours,” I answered.

His eyes widened and he focused on my face, bright and burning. He was almost unbearably handsome. “Hello, soulmate,” he whispered, like he was telling me a secret.

And then he collapsed.  


	2. Daylight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like Bucky, Steve had two soulmarks. Bucky’s was wrapped around his right bicep, a spiral of black words that stood out against his pale skin. The other was sprawled on the inside of his left thigh: Call me Victoria. And if you are who I think you are, shouldn’t you be smaller?
> 
> Bucky didn’t see Steve’s second mark until they were both seventeen, and the first thing he did was trace the letters with his tongue.

James Buchanan Barnes was born with two soulmarks. One on his upper chest, a curving line of text just beneath his collarbone that read: _I am neither angel nor Valkyrie, brave one. But I think I might be yours._ The other was on his right arm, starting at the crook of his elbow and going down to his wrist: _I didn’t need your help, jerk. I had him on the ropes._

He’d met his first soulmate when he was almost ten years old. There’d been a boy, smaller than all the others and twice as reckless. He’d gotten into fights all the time. And eventually, Bucky had to help.

So, Bucky had given the boy currently wailing on the smaller one a bloody nose.

“I didn’t need your help, jerk. I had him on the ropes,” Steven Grant Rogers had said, breathing hard, a bruise blooming on his cheek.

Bucky had grinned and said, “You’re just as scrappy as I always imagined you, punk.”

And that was that.

Like Bucky, Steve had two soulmarks. Bucky’s was wrapped around his right bicep, a spiral of black words that stood out against his pale skin. The other was sprawled on the inside of his left thigh: _Call me Victoria. And if you are who I think you are, shouldn’t you be smaller?_

Bucky didn’t see Steve’s second mark until they were both seventeen, and the first thing he did was trace the letters with his tongue.

 

Steve knew that he and Bucky shared a soulmate, that their second soulmarks were written in the same handwriting. That they had a third out there somewhere, waiting for them to find her. He didn’t really know why he thought it was a woman, but Bucky had the same idea, so he figured it was some kind of soul-connection. He didn’t mind that she hadn’t come to them yet, though.

In spite of Bucky’s endless compliments, Steve knew he wasn’t exactly a woman’s idea of a perfect man. He was scrawny, to say the least, and had a stubborn streak a mile wide. He couldn’t even come without it triggering an asthma attack, so he figured that Bucky would have a more physical relationship with the distant girl, and that he would be more platonic.

Though Steve would never admit it, he was a little jealous of his soulmates, for two vastly different reasons. Bucky was tall and handsome and charming. He was healthy and strong; he took care of Steve, and he’d eventually take care of their third. And the woman—or the distant idea of her that Steve had in his mind—was beautiful and clever. She would be able to give Bucky the family he’d always wanted. What could Steve ever give him? What could Steve offer her?

And her words confused him. _And if you are who I think you are, shouldn’t you be smaller?_ What the hell was that supposed to mean? He was already small enough, thank you very much. He assumed that she would meet Bucky first, though her words on him were also fairly confusing.

Bucky didn’t really worry about it though, or at least Steve didn’t think he did. “She’s ours, Stevie, yours and mine. She’ll love us both because she’s our soulmate, and that’s what soulmates do. Nothing else matters, not looks or health. I love you more than anything else in the world, and she’ll love you just as much. I know it,” he’d say again and again, stroking Steve’s hair out of his face and pressing a kiss to his temple.

And then the war came.

And things began to make a lot more sense.

 

Steve almost wished that the beautiful, clever Peggy Carter was his other soulmate, but no such luck. It didn’t stop him from wanting her. And wanting her didn’t stop him from respecting the hell out of her.  

He didn’t tell Bucky about Dr. Erskine’s offer of a chance that last night before his soulmate left. They spent the long hours until dawn kissing and memorizing each other’s bodies. Bucky had whispered adoration across Steve’s skin, kissed him until he thought he might die from wanting.

Bucky had left, and the pain of being apart was almost as bad as becoming the world’s first super soldier. Almost, but not quite. But Steve had endured. And now he was strong and healthy. Now he could take care of Bucky, and their distant third.

 

Bucky drifted on the tide of his dreams, somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. There was a warm hand stroking his hair, and a soft voice singing an unfamiliar lullaby in a language he’d never heard before. Another hand was pressed to his heart, almost as though the person was trying to make sure that it didn’t stop beating.

He felt very warm, safe and loved in a way he hadn’t in what felt like forever. He let his eyes fall open and his breath caught in his throat.

The woman leaning over him was breathtakingly beautiful. Long red-gold hair fell around her shoulders in curls and waves, her fair skin was dusted with freckles, and her eyes were blue as a cloudless sky. And everything that had happened the day before slammed into him.

“Don’t try to move. You’ve been feverish for most of the night and I don’t know when you last ate or had anything to drink,” his soulmate ordered, her voice sending a shiver through him.

“Sorry I fainted on you yesterday,” he said, regretting it almost instantly.

She smiled. “I don’t mind. It was hard to get you to the cot, but I managed.”

“I’m James,” he offered. _And you must be Victoria_.

“Hello, James. It’s lovely to finally meet you. To be honest, I’ve been waiting for a long time.”

He laughed; it made his chest hurt. “Me too.”

“I bet I’ve been waiting longer.” Her tone was teasing.

“You can’t be more than twenty-two, doll.”

“It’s rather hard to explain, but I’m almost a thousand years old.” She was completely serious.

“I don’t understand.”

She stifled a yawn. “Would you mind if I slept before we have this very complicated conversation? I was up all night trying to make sure you didn’t die.”

_She’s a firecracker. Steve’s gonna love her._

“Sure,” he said easily.

She laid down, letting her head rest on his chest, her body curving perfectly into his. “My name is Sigyn,” she mumbled into his chest, drifting off into sleep.

_Then who the hell is Victoria?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have a final tomorrow, but whatever. I needed to get this chapter out. I'm the worst.  
> Also, I would die for Steve Rogers or James Barnes. Just saying.


	3. Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me about Steve,” I requested, shifting so that my back was to the stone wall and my legs hung off the cot.

James’ skin was warm, warmer than Loki’s ever was. It was surprisingly pleasant to sleep beside someone with a normal body temperature. I’d never complained, of course, and I didn’t mind Loki’s coolness much, but lying beside James, with his hand stroking my hair and his heartbeat steady against my ear, felt right in a way I’d never experienced before.

_It’s because he’s your soulmate. He’s supposed to feel like that._

“You awake?”

“Yes. How long was I asleep?”

“I don’t know. It’s darker than it was before, but I’ve lost track of everything since I came here. I don’t even know what the date is.”

“I know it’s the year 1943 and you humans are fighting a war on practically a global scale, but that’s all.”

“You talk like you’re not human,” James said carefully.

I laughed, just a little, and sat up. “I’m not. I was born on Vanaheim, a planet very, very far from this one. My mother is its queen.”

“So…you’re a thousand-year-old alien princess and your name is…Sigyn?”

“Yes. I am Sigyn Freyadottir. When I first came to this world, humans believed me to be a goddess.”

“I remember Stevie telling me a bit about a goddess called Sigyn. Lady of Truth and Loyalty, right?”

I nodded, wondering who exactly this “Stevie” was.

“But you’re not actually a goddess?”

I giggled—actually giggled—and resisted the urge to kiss his frown away. “I’m merely a long-lived being from a different world. I don’t think there are any such things as gods, but I could be wrong. There are certainly many powerful beings in this universe, but I’ve yet to meet a true god.”

“Oh.”

“I would ask though, that you refrain from using my real name in this place. Names have power and I’d prefer to keep Hydra as in the dark as possible.”

“What should I call you then?” Even lying prostrate on a cot in a cell, he was trying to flirt with me.

“I’ve had so many names over the years…but I want something new. Do you have any requests?” And apparently, I was flirting right back.

“Well, what does Sigyn mean?”

“Bringer of victory.”

“Why not Victoria, then? Same meaning, but it sounds different,” he suggested, sitting up.

“I like it. Thank you.”

He grinned at me, face lighting up. He looked younger when he smiled, like the boy he must have been before he became a soldier. “My pleasure, doll.”

“So…can I ask who Stevie is?”

James’ smile widened. “Are you jealous?”

“I’m over nine-hundred years old, and my mother was worshipped as the goddess of beauty. What do you think?”

My soulmate chuckled. “Steve is my other soulmate—our other soulmate.”

“How do you know he’s mine, too?”

He pulled down the collar of his shirt, revealing the words I’d spoken to him. It was undoubtedly my handwriting, though it was English instead of Allspeak. _I am neither angel nor Valkyrie, brave one. But I think I might be yours._ “This is your mark on me.” He then held out his right arm, showing me the words written there: _I didn’t need your help, jerk. I had him on the ropes._ “And that’s Steve’s.”

I reached out and touched the mark on his arm. “I have this handwriting on my thigh,” I said softly.

“Can I see it?” he asked, tone wondering instead of flirtatious.

I scooted back from him, drew up my skirt, and spread my legs a bit to reveal the mark. It was stark against the pale skin of my inner thigh, but I’d always liked the handwriting—the finely shaped letters, made with such care: _Who the hell are you?_

James huffed a laugh, his eyes bright with emotion. “That’s Steve’s alright. He never did know how to talk to a pretty dame. Of course, that’s what he would say to you.”

He laid his hand on my ankle and want flared low in the pit of my stomach. It surprised me how strong the pull was between us. I barely knew him and we were trapped in a cell, in the power of a madman, but I was inexplicably desperate to know what he tasted like.

_I’m still married. Though Loki and I didn’t part on the best of terms, he is my husband. We’ll forgive each other eventually. I don’t expect complete marital fidelity from him, no matter what our vows said; I’ve met his brother, after all. And we’ve been married for over eight centuries, and we’ll be married for many more. Would he fault me for taking my soulmate as a lover?_

“Tell me about Steve,” I requested, shifting so that my back was to the stone wall and my legs hung off the cot.

James did the same and we sat shoulder to shoulder. He took my hand in his, twining our fingers together so naturally I almost believed it wasn’t the first time. “He’s the most stubborn guy I’ve ever met. He hates bullies; he’ll fight anyone he thinks is a bully and he never runs away. I’ve been getting him out of scrapes since we were kids. Steve’s always in trouble, but I think he does it for the right reasons. He’s an artist, too; he can draw better than anyone I’ve seen.”

“What color are his eyes?”

“Blue. And he’s got blond hair. But…he’s small. He was born really sick and he’s been sick all his life. I take care of him. I was scared, before, that he’d die before I got back to Brooklyn. That without me to take care of him, he’d get worse somehow. But now that I’ve met you, I know he’ll live long enough to meet you. I know I’ll get back to him.”

“You love him a great deal, don’t you?”

James nodded. “He’s easy to love.”

I leaned against him, taking comfort in his solid warmth. “We will escape this place. I will bring you back to Steve. I promise.”

“I believe you, doll.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry I didn't update as quickly as I usually do. I just got home from my first year of college and I'm dead tired. Also writing dialogue is kinda hard. Whoo-hoo! Connections and stuff. Steve's on his way! Fuck Hydra!


	4. This Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What happens when we escape?”
> 
> “What do you mean?”
> 
> “You promised to take me back to Steve, but then what? Will you stay with us…or will you go back to Vanaheim?”

Sigyn—no Victoria, he had to remember to call her Victoria—was staring quietly at the wall, her blue eyes unfocused, lost in thought as she was. Even in the low light of the cell, James could see the freckles spattered across her face like stardust. Every time he looked at her he was once again overcome by her loveliness—and he’d been looking at her for almost a month (or so he thought). He’d never wanted anyone but Steve, so it was an odd sensation to want her.

But he didn’t _just_ want her. He wanted to watch her kiss Steve, wanted both of them close to him, wanted to lie in bed with them—Steve between him and Victoria. It’d be easier to keep him warm in the winter with another body.

_But will she even stay after she’s delivered you back to Steve? She’s a princess of another planet, for Christ’s sake, and a thousand years old! What can you possibly offer her? Sure, she’s your soulmate, but that doesn’t always mean ‘happily ever after’ like in those fairy tales Sarah Rogers used to read. She and Steve might not even like each other. What then?_

“James, is something wrong?”

He turned to her, startled out of his—somewhat distressing—thoughts. “No,” he said quickly. “Why?”

She touched his face, smoothing away the furrows on his forehead. “I could almost hear you thinking…and you were squeezing my hand rather tightly. Tell me what’s wrong?” She pressed her palm to his cheek.

He turned his face to kiss her hand, an easy act of affection. Everything was easy with her—the same way it had been with Steve. “Just worryin’. Could…could I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“What happens when we escape?”

“What do you mean?”

“You promised to take me back to Steve, but then what? Will you stay with us…or will you go back to Vanaheim?”

Sigyn—Victoria—turned away, suddenly sad instead of merely pensive. “I don’t live on Vanaheim anymore; I haven’t in a long time. I live on Asgard…with my husband.”

His breath caught in his throat. “You’re married?” he choked out.

“I’ve been married most of my life.”

“And you…love him?”

“On his better days, yes. I’m quite fond of him when he’s not being a prick. But arranged marriages are complicated, James. We didn’t really have a choice but to marry each other,” she explained.

“So, you’ll go back to him once we’re free.” It wasn’t a question.

She sighed. “Marriage there isn’t like it is here. When you’ll live for five to eight thousand years, commitment means something different. Married couples take lovers all the time, or spend some time separated if their issues are too great to be resolved quickly. I’m not human, James, you must remember that.”

“I know, I know. I just…I just want to know where you stand.”

Sigyn—Victoria—moved slowly, careful of the many hurts Dr. Zola had inflicted, to straddle him. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her forehead to his. She smelled faintly of lavender and her breath fogged up against his mouth. “I forget sometimes how very young you are. And you are young, James. It doesn’t matter than you’ve been a man for several years; compared to me you’re practically a child. You’ll live for a century—probably less considering the violence your species is capable of—then you’ll die and your bones will turn to dust before my first grey hair appears. But you are my soulmate; the universe has decided that we belong together—you, me, and Steve—so I’m not just going to leave you. I will stay with you as long as you wish, and not a second longer.”

“Do you love me?” he asked, his heart pounding from her proximity.

“I don’t know how humans define love. I’m not even sure if I’ve ever truly been in love. I care very deeply for you; it breaks my heart every time you’re hurt and I would give my life to see you kept from harm. Even in this terrible place, when you’re close to me I feel…content. Settled in a way I have not felt before. Do you love me?” Her voice was soft and sweet and he wanted to kiss her so much it almost hurt.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I think so. It’s hard to explain in a way that makes sense.”

She smiled. “Try. For me.”

He swallowed around his nervousness. “You’re…you’re so beautiful. The most beautiful dame I’ve ever met—and I’ve met plenty. But when you look at me the way you’re looking at me right now, it feels like it’s just you and me and I almost forget I’m in a cell in a Nazi base. You’re wonderful, Sig—Victoria. You’re just wonderful and you make me feel _good_ and the only thing that could possibly make me feel even better is if we were safe at home with Steve. I want him to meet you. I want him to love you, and you to love him, because I love both of you. I want us to be together all the time, and if I could live for a few thousand years I know I’d never get tired of either of you.”

With a little sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, she buried her face in the place where his neck met his shoulder. She stayed there for a long time, trembling a bit, just breathing. He stroked his hands up and down her back, feeling each vertebrae of her spine, memorizing the rhythms of her breathing and heartbeat.

“Oh, my James, how I adore you,” she murmured into his skin, all warm breath and sweet voice. “I wish you could live as long as me. I don’t ever want to let you go.”

 

Far, far away, across an ocean, Steve Rogers pulled on his ridiculous costume. The nail-marks one of the USO girls had left on his back the night before were already fading. He longed for Bucky, for the solid, comforting presence of his soulmate, more than he had words to express. Though the girls who propositioned him were a fine way to spend an evening—Bucky had spent plenty of nights with willing dames—he didn’t feel any particular attachment to them. He just wanted his soulmate.

He wondered when they’d be together again, hoped Bucky was safe and warm wherever he was. Steve wanted to be on the other side of the Atlantic, fighting for his country, not playing a dancing monkey and selling bonds. He felt useless, though he did his very best to ignore it.

Something like trepidation haunted his dreams. He hadn’t had a letter from Bucky in a long while and he was almost worried. He knew that mail was lost all the time, that the war probably disrupted trivial things like letters, but he was still worried.

Steve was supposed to go overseas soon with the USO. Maybe he’d be able to see Bucky then. He could almost imagine the surprise on his soulmate’s face when he took in his new and improved body. Maybe Bucky had already met their soulmate, maybe they were both waiting for him. He half-hoped they were. He was finally ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was actually so much fun to write. I love writing long, dramatic monologue-ish speeches about love and stuff. Dialogue is hard, but sometimes the words just flow. It's wonderful. Anyway, I love Bucky Barnes so much. He's so much fun to write, and I love everything Sigyn has ever said ever.   
> BTW I hope that all of you are doing well. I had a rough time (emotionally) last night and know that sometimes life can be really rough. People have a surprising capacity to inflict pain, whether it's intentional or not, and I've been dealing with really strong emotions lately. I just hope that all of you have someone to talk to. If you are going through something bad, know that I'm hugging you in my mind and that the person who might have hurt you is a fucking coward and doesn't deserve your time. I would beat them up if I could. And Steve would help. Stay strong.


	5. I don't wanna break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen, Steve, it’s wonderful to finally meet you—though I wish it was under different circumstances—but we need to find James. Now. Will you help me?”

Dr. Zola returned James to me after what felt like an eternity, covered in bruises and only half-conscious. As usual he was dumped into the cell, with only me to make sure he didn’t crack his head open on the hard floor. They never had the decency to get him to the cot first, the bastards. I was going to throw Zola into a volcano, probably; it seemed a fitting and painful end. Or perhaps I would simply rip him to shreds with my bare hands.

I was certainly capable of that sort of violence, given that I was a Berserker. But I wasn’t strong enough to muster up a proper rage-trance. Zola had experimented on me further, each test leaving me weaker and more human than the last. I wasn’t always conscious, so I wasn’t entirely certain what he was doing to me. _If I ever get back to Asgard, will the healers be able to reverse what has been done to me?_

James was lying on the cot, still as stone, the only indication of life the slow rise and fall of his chest. I dreaded the days when he was taken from the cell, made to suffer Zola’s cruel treatments. I was terrified that one day he wouldn’t come back to me, that at some point his body would succumb to the torture he endured, and he would die. If he died, part of me would die with him.

I began to sing, the lullaby that Gerda had sung to me when I was a child, stroking James’ hair back from his brow. His skin was cool and clammy to the touch, but his heartbeat was strong as ever. He would wake soon enough. I longed for the comfort of his voice and the warmth of his arms around me. I craved his company; it was an itch under my skin that only abated when he was touching me.

The song tapered off as I began to think.

_How can we escape? I have no magic, no strength. I’m practically useless, and James is too weak from whatever Zola is doing to him. I’m going to assume that Odin will intercede if my life is put in any real danger; the alliance between Asgard and Vanaheim is made stable by my marriage to Loki, so he won’t risk my death. But until that point, I’m vulnerable and anyone from Asgard who might come to rescue me won’t care a whit for James. I’ll have to find a way to get us out on my own. If he dies, powerless or not, I will tear this place apart with my bare hands._

I stretched out beside him, tired from all my worrying, and propped myself up on an elbow to examine his face. I couldn’t help but notice his attractiveness; he was easy to admire. Even unkempt and scruffy as he was, I found him almost unbearably handsome. I wanted him, but I knew that desire was an easy emotion. I’d experienced it a great deal, and what I felt for James wasn’t just that.

It _was_ love. Love and longing, adoration and desire, warmth and wanting. He was so dear to me—though we’d only known each other a short time—and I couldn’t imagine a life without him. It would break my heart when he died. And if this was what I felt for him, how much more intense would it be with Steve there? How much more would it hurt to lose two soulmates, instead of just one? _Am I strong enough to bear that?_

“Victoria?” His voice was rough with sleep.

“You’re awake; I was about to be worried.”

“How long was I out?”

“An hour, maybe two. How do you feel?”

He sighed. “Everything hurts.”

“I figured as much. I wish I could help you, but I don’t know how. I wish I could take your pain away.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I’ll be alright.”

I bit my lip. “Not if Zola keeps experimenting on you. Most of his other test subjects have died, James. I can’t—I won’t watch you die. I don’t have the strength to endure your loss.”

“I’m not going to die. I promise.”

_You will, though. One day. In forty years, you’ll be an old man. In sixty years, you’ll be dead, or bedridden at the least. Humans don’t live long. You’ll be dead and gone and buried beneath the cold, unforgiving earth, and I’ll have to spend the next few thousand years of my life missing you, mourning you. And Loki won’t understand. He doesn’t have any soulmarks, and he certainly doesn’t know about mine. I’ve kept them glamoured since the day we met; only my mother, Freyr, and Gerda know. How can I ever tell him now? How am I supposed to explain why I have to stay on Midgard for the next several decades? How do I make him understand what you mean to me—what Steve will mean to me?_

“Stop thinkin’ so hard, doll,” James said, reaching up and tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I _will_ be alright. We’ll get out of here, you’ll see. Didn’t you promise to get me back to Steve?”

“I’m just…afraid. I’ve never been this powerless before, and I can’t think of any ways to escape. We’re running out of time, and you know it.”

He sighed and pressed a hand to my neck, thumb stroking along my jawline. It was absurdly distracting. So, abandoning any and all rational thought, I leaned down, bracing a hand on his chest, and kissed him. His mouth opened under mine, chapped lips moving with purpose. His lips were warm and slightly sweet, and for a moment the rest of the universe faded away. It was just us, our bond wrapped around us like a cocoon. His fingers tangled in my hair and I pressed myself closer. We were chest to chest, legs entwined. The words beneath my collarbone burned.

James was wide-eyed when I pulled back, flushed and breathing hard. “That was some kiss, doll.”

“Idiot,” I said fondly, rolling my eyes.  

“Yours,” he whispered, pulling me down for another kiss.

 

I came awake slowly, my head pounding lie someone was hammering the bridge of my nose. Groaning, I sat up. I’d been lying on the floor…but why?

_They’ve taken him again._

It came back to me slowly: Zola coming back for James, me fighting until one of the guards had to knock me out, my soulmate’s anguished cry as darkness overtook me. I knew he wasn’t strong enough for any more experiments, that’s why I’d fought. If Zola kept going, James would die.

I forced myself to stand, blinking back tears of pain. I’d have an ugly bruise on by jaw, I knew. I wrapped my hands around the cell bars and reached, once again, inside myself. Emptiness…hollowness…and then…warmth. _There you are._

I closed my eyes and focused, feeling the cool metal, seeking out it’s weakness. The bars turned to liquid beneath my hands, sloshing to the floor at my feet. And then I was out of the cell and running.

I didn’t know my way around and I’d used all of my reserves to get out of the cell. _What next? Think, Sigyn, think! You have to find him. If you don’t…_ I sprinted down the halls, my lungs burning, fear giving my feet wings.

“Ooof!”

The man I’d run into was tall, as tall as James, and dressed from head to toe in red, white, and blue. He carried a shield on his arms and his shoulders looked to be as broad as Thor’s. I could feel the strength in him and I could tell this was no ordinary man. And I knew his face—I’d seen him in my dreams.

He looked me up and down. “Who the hell are you?”  

The words on my thigh tingled. “Call me Victoria. And if you are who I think you are, shouldn’t you be smaller?”

His eyes widened; I was right.

“Listen, Steve, it’s wonderful to finally meet you—though I wish it was under different circumstances—but we need to find James. Now. Will you help me?”

He gave me a tight nod. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was a long time to wait for an update, and I apologize. I'm a procrastinator. And I'm busy. I'm a busy procrastinator! Oh the irony! Anyway, I'm trying my best and I'm excited about where this story will be going. At last, Steve and Sigyn have met! Let there be joy and love and sexy times! And then after that let there be suffering and heartbreak and soul-crushing despair! I love exclamation points!


End file.
